Your small white body wrapped around a huge heart, beating with a distinctive murmur, brings joy now just as it did when I first saw your puppy face. A surprise gift for my mother from me in 1999, independently we both picked you out of the litter. You had presence then—you have even more now. Here’s a few of the million things that I love about you.
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When Lucille Clifton asks, “won’t you celebrate with me,” we answer yes. What does this Black woman decide when she finds no model for how to create her life? “what did i see but to be myself?” she responds. The poet fastens her hands and makes her life of “starshine and clay.” What does a boy from the staunchly-segregated south long to do before he dies? Jimmy Carter casts his ballot for Kamala Harris. Won’t you celebrate the 39th president with me?